


The one where Eddie gets drunk and cries

by theinksplotch



Series: Reddie Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Oblivious Richie Tozier, One Shot, POV Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:47:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15466740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinksplotch/pseuds/theinksplotch
Summary: Eddie can't stand Richie(Just kidding he fucking loves him)This is based off a prompt I got onmy tumblr!! Hope y'all enjoy !





	The one where Eddie gets drunk and cries

In hindsight, Eddie probably should’ve just stayed home.

It was tough enough trying to convince his mother to let him sleep over at Bill’s, or—or have _dinner over_ at Stan’s, but a party?—a _boy-girl_ party, at that? Eddie was better off jumping up in the middle of Sunday morning mass and yelling out _‘Hey, Ma! I’m joining a sex cult!’_  

In his defense, if anyone else had asked him to go to some _co-ed party_ , Eddie would’ve laughed right in their face…but it just _had_ to be Richie doing the asking, didn’t it?

Richie Tozier was the one person Eddie could never seem to say no to.

And he _hated_ it.

Because Richie Tozier was his Achilles heel - all the fucker had to do was flash that crooked grin and smile with those freckled cheeks, and he could probably have Eddie jumping off the side of a building with nothing more than a warm dizzy feeling bubbling in his chest. It'd always been like that, Eddie thinks - for as long as he could remember knowing him. He'd spent nearly 10 years chasing after the lanky boy with the soft eyes and the sharp mouth - well not really chasing, more like following, watching from the sidelines as Richie dated girls, listening spitefully as he talked about _pussy_ and _tits_ and whatever else _girls_ had that Eddie didn't.

Anyways,

The stupid party was all Richie could talk about since Monday - he’d waltzed up to Eddie’s locker like he usually did in the mornings before school, _loudly_  - see, Eddie could always _hear_ Richie before he saw 'im. He was akin to a one-man band, always humming, clicking, tapping, _making some kind of noise_ constantly - wherever there was a ruckus, there was Richie.

So when the sound of sneakers squeaking harshly on sleek linoleum tiles and the soft tap of knobby knuckles on lockers getting closer and closer filled the nearly-empty hallway that morning, Eddie turned to greet his friend. He was met with a cheeky grin and a crumpled orange piece of paper slapped over the cover of his English textbook.

Eddie frowned at what he soon realized was a flyer. It was nearly blank, save for the words ‘FREE BEER’ crudely scrawled across the top, the address written in similar, more cramped print directly underneath. He looked over the flyer at the face of chaos itself - Richie had propped himself haphazardly against the locker next to Eddie’s, a knowing grin spread across his freckled face.

Eddie returned it with a blank stare. “What the hell is this?”

“What, ya didn’t read the flyer, Eds?” Richie asked, slender fingers suddenly splayed on the inside of Eddie’s open locker door, tapping idly. The magnets and pictures on the inside rattled softly. He inched his face real close to Eddie's, close enough for him to smell the nicotine and bazooka bubblegum on his breath. “Its a par-tay!“

“Yeah. I _got that_ ,” Eddie muttered, rolling his eyes at Richie’s stupid pronunciation. _Par-tay, jesus._

“Sorry, maybe you misunderstood,” he continued in a false, politeness. "What I meant was…what the hell is _this..._ ", he shoved the orange paper into Richie’s chest, pushing him away at the same time—the boy fumbled to catch it before it floated to the ground—"...doing on top of my books?“

 _Don’t ask me to go don’t ask me to go…_  

We’re going. _Guh-doi_.” Richie replied, confirming Eddie’s worst fear. “I thought that was pretty obvious when I gave you the flyer, Eds.”

“ _We_ , as in…” Eddie coaxed, closing his locker with a soft thud and following Richie to his, not to far down the hall. They’d done this every morning probably since freshmen year, their own routine.

“Gee, I don’t know,“ Richie said, rolling his eyes. “The fuckin' Scooby Gang—who else do ya think?”

“Hardy-har-har, _asshole_ ,” Eddie muttered in response. Now it was his turn to lean against the set of lockers, watching bemusedly as Richie’s long, slender fingers fumbled to undo his lock.

“Wait,” Eddie said suddenly. “So you’re telling me the others agreed to this already? Even Stan?”

Richie paused, hands frozen against the lock. “Uhhh…well I’m sure they will once I’ve, you know, told ‘em.”

Eddie scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure Stan’ll be fucking ecstatic to know that you wanna drag him to some party all the way over at—where is this thing anyways?” He plucked the flyer out of Richie's back pocket, where he'd rolled it up and stuck it.

“Its…its out of town,“ Eddie said, eyes scanning the paper. “Where’d you hear about this boy-girl party, anyways?“ he held out the flyer accusingly.

Richie chuckled softly, finally managing to pry the lock out of its hinge. He whipped open his locker, catching the stray papers that tumbled out like he knew they were coming. “Two things,” he announced, laughter in his voice. “First things first. It’s not a _boy-girl_ party, you dork. It’s just a _regular_   _party_. Try to remember that we’re not in the seventh grade anymore, Munchkin.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, _hating_ the way his cheeks grew hot at that _stupid_ nickname.

“And second. Heard about it from my guy,” Richie said, shrugging.

Richie’s _guy_ , was a ratty looking college student who wore eyeliner and stuck safety pins in his clothes for no reason. He came and sold Richie and some other Derry High students weed every now and again. Eddie had never actually seen Richie with more than a cig dangling from his lips, but knew that he, Bev and Bill smoked from time to time, could even smell it on him sometimes, the faint, skunkyness mixed in with the boy's detergent and the ever present pine scent that came from the air freshener hanging from the review mirror in his old Saturn. Eddie wasn’t sure why, but he liked the smell. It reminded him of Richie’s bedroom, cozy and disastrous all at once, much like the boy it belonged to.

“Its at UM,” Richie went on, grinning. He plucked a single pencil from inside his locker and stuffed it in his back pocket before slamming it shut. “A _college_ party, Eds. College girls, College _tits_.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, ignoring ugly feeling that flooded his chest whenever his friend talked about _girls_. “Ugh, Richie you’re _such_ a disease. I’m not going to some party at a stranger’s frat house because _you_ want to touch some 20 something year old girl’s breasts, fucker.”

“ _Tits_ , Spaghetti Man. They’re called tits. Breasts are what middle aged moms have.“

“If only you could memorize the names of the rest of the human body, then maybe you’d be passing biology,“ Eddie quipped.

Just then, the school bell went off, filling the hallway with an unnecessarily shrill ringing that was far too loud for a _goddamn_ Monday morning.

Eddie pushed off of the locker, Richie trailing behind him as he made his way down the now-packed halls to get to his English class.

“ _Hardy-har-har_ ,” Richie deadpanned. “Have your Chucks all you want now, but mark my words, Spaghetti-head. You’ll thank me when we’re both surrounded by _college girls_.” He quirked an eyebrow up, grinning down at Eddie.

He nearly sighed out loud. _I don’t care about college girls! I care about you, asshole!_

“You know my mom would freak if I asked her about this, right?” He questioned. “You think she’s gonna just let me go to a college party? Richie, she barely even let’s me go to church sometimes! She thinks the dust from the pews is gonna trigger a fucking asthma attack!”

Richie rolled his eyes. “There is one simple solution to all this, Eds. Just tell her you’re spending the night at Bill’s. Bill will tell his parents that you’re there and they never check up so if old Mrs. K happens to phone, they’ll cover for ya without even realizing it.” He mimicked dusting off his hands. “Problem solved.“ 

_Say no say no say no say no…_

Eddie sighed. “Fine.“ 

“Aha!” Richie pinched his cheek affectionately, a bright grin on his face. Eddie felt dizzy looking at that grin, it was almost like staring directly into the sun. “I knew you’d come around! Alright well I gotta go ditch gym. See ya at lunch, you precious baby boy whom _I_ would die for!” And then he was gone in the opposite direction, leaving Eddie dazed and unnecessarily warm.

 _ **Fast forward. Record scratch. Freeze frame**_. 

 _Yup, that’s me_ , Eddie thought bitterly, imagining himself as the main character of some shitty teen movie. He imagined the camera zooming in on his small frame, pressed into the corner of what he thought was the living room of this enourmous house party, Stan by his side. He had a drink in his hand, nearly half gone, although Eddie had stopped drinking it when he felt the warm buzz settle into his bones _. You’re probably wondering how I ended up here_. Plumes of weed and _who knows what else_ drifted through the air every once in a while like clouds surrounding a mountain top. And there was music. _Loud_ music, the heavy bass of some punk band playing through a speaker shook the whole house, making the walls thump and vibrate against Eddie’s back (You know, Richie had told them these were theater kids, but he hadn’t heard ‘Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin’' from Oklahoma! _once_ , so…).

 _Well, you see,_ Eddie thought, continuing his inner monologue as he disdainfully watched a guy in what looked like a mascot suit chug beer through the suit’s _eyehole_.  _Its all Richie’s fault. And I HATE him._

_Well, not really._

Eddie squinted at the swarm of bodies writhing on the ‘dance floor’ in the living room, trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar face through brief flashes of multicolored strobe lights in the darkness. His friends had disappeared some time ago, Bill wandering off to get _pluh-pluh-pluh-plastered_ , Mike tagging along to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid like the responsible friend and designated driver he was. Bev and Ben had gone next, off to the dance floor, pleasant smiles on their faces. Richie caught sight of someone he knew almost right away, lanky body disappearing in the crowd of drunken idots like he was some kind of…of _asshole_ ghost boy, leaving Stan and Eddie alone.

_Maybe I do hate him._

“Ugh,” Stan said for what seemed like the hundedth time since they’d arrived, interrupting Eddie’s conversation _with himself_. “All these drinks and not  _one_ fuckng coaster in sight.”

“I just watched some guy dump out a house plant and pour vodka into the vase,” Eddie said, giggling. "And you’re worried about coasters.“

“Yes.”

For some reason, that was the funniest thing Eddie had ever heard, but maybe that was the warm haze in his head talking. He doubled over into a fit of giggles, and eventually, even Stan cracked a grin too. “You really can’t handle your liquor, can you?” He asked bemusedly, plucking the half empty cup out of Eddie’s hands and sniffing it. “Vodka and Gatorade,” he observed, setting it on a bookshelf. “I’m gonna murder Bill for this.”

Eddie smiled up at his friend. "Oh, Stanley,“ he said. “You know I fucking love you right? You’re like, one of my _bestest_ friends. I’d die for you, you know. In a heartbeat.”

“That’s the drink talking, Eddie,” Stan replied, but Eddie could see it in his face, the softness in his eyes, he felt the same way too. “Plus,” he added. “I don’t think I’m the person you need to be saying that to tonight.”

Edie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Stan said, face calculating, like he was trying to figure how to break Eddie some terrible news. “Listen Eddie. I’ve known you since we were ten years old. You think I can’t tell you’ve been in love with Richie this whole time?”

Eddie froze. He suddenly wasn’t feeling so warm anymore. “N-no, that’s not, I mean I’m not…”

Stan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey…” he said softly, voice nearly drowned out by the music. “Your secret is safe with me. I’m just saying, if you ever…came out, I wouldn’t judge you. And the others wouldn’t judge you. And _definitely_ no one at this party would judge you.”

No one at the party? Eddie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Stan shook his head incredulously, like a teacher scolding a student for not paying attention in class. “Have you looked around at this party—I mean, _really_ looked?”

Eddie shook his head no.

“Well, _look_ ,” Stan pointed to something over towards the staircase. Eddie followed his gaze.

And then time slowed.

Eddie was suddenly underwater, the music and the drinking and just _everything_ fading into the background, muted.

Pressed up against the staircase, were two boys,

_kissing._

Nobody gave them a second look when they walked by, nobody stopped to call them fags. They were just…normal people, souls in a crowd.

And then Eddie saw more, spread out in the living room like beacons, girls kissing girls, guys dancing pressed against one another, drinking, talking, holding hands.

Queers like him.

 _Being themselves_.

“I…” Eddie began, his voice all choked up because he was just _that_ soft. He couldn’t belive he was crying over this, but maybe…maybe he could. Just the amount of relief pouring through his body in that moment alone was enough to send him into a coma from sheer happiness. Sometimes just felt so… _painfully_ alone, he forgot that there were other people going through the exact same thing as him.

“Woah, there,” Stan panicked, pulling him into a tight hug. “Don’t go crying on me now, Kaspbrak. You know I’m shit at comforting people.”

Eddie sniffle-laughed, wrapping his arms around Stan’s middle. “I beg to differ,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

They stood there, in their dark little corner, for who knows how long, music and drinking and partying fading into background noise as Eddie sobbed gratefully into Stan’s shoulder, his friend rubbing soothing circls on the small of his back.

“None of us are ever going to judge you, Eddie,” Stan said quietly once Eddie had finished. “We love you.”

Eddie squeezed him. “Thanks, Stan.”

“Well, I mean. I’m judging you a _little bit_ ,” Stan said pulling away, fixing him with a look. “I mean— _Richie_? Seriously?”

Eddie laughed. “I ask myself that every fucking day.”

He looked back out into the sea of people, suddenly filled with sort of bittersweet happiness.

Because sure, one day—far away from today—when Eddie was no longer an awkward 17 year old, he could be happy like them. Be himself, freely and unapologetically, even if sometimes it was only in the darkness of a college party.

But not with the boy he loved.

He wondered what Richie was doing right now. _Probably halfway to second base with some college girl_ , his mind supplied helpful. _Asshole._  

“ _Hola, muchachos_!”

_Speak of the devil._

Richie had suddenly materialized before them, freckled face shining with sweat and happiness and unruly black curls puffy from the humidity of the party.

Eddie picked the cup back up off the shelf and downed the rest in one gulp, feeling like he had to be drunk to deal with this sweaty, dazed Richie.

“Where the _hell_ have you been, asshole?” Stan asked curtly, fixing the boy with a patronizing glare so harsh it probably shined brighter than the party lasers in the darkness of the room.

“Hey, I was gonna be right back,” Richie pouted, his glasses glinting colorfully against the strobe lights. “I just went to go find something for my two fave boys to do at this fine establishment. You know, other than sulking in a corner.“ He came in between them, pulling them both under an arm and dragging them out of their cozy little corner and into the chaos of the party.

“Where are you taking us?” Eddie asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow up at his very tall friend.

“You’ll see,“ Richie said,

“Suddenly I wish I was blind,” Stan muttered under his breath. Eddie laughed.

“Oh, how I missed your wit in those few minutes I was gone, Stanny,“ Richie sighed sarcastically, ushering them down a flight of wooden stairs and into a weed smelling basement.

“What the hell is this?” Eddie muttered, eyeing the group of young college students sitting in a tight circle on the floor.

“Got room for three more?” Richie called from the foot of the stairs, holding Eddie and Stan’s hands up like the ref did to Rocky Balboa after he won a boxing match, a grin poised on his lips.

The group cheered, as if Richie had just announced he was running for president.

“Don’t mind them,” Richie mumbled as they got closer. “They’re wasted out of their minds.” He said it casually, like somebody would say _‘the sky is blue’_ or _‘I don’t like green beans.’_  

As they got closer, Eddie caught a glimpse of what they were doing.

_Spin the bottle._

“Oh hell no,” he said, moving to turn back around. Hopefully his corner was still empty upstairs. Stan moved to follow him.

“No no _no_ , come on guys,” Richie whined, sticking his stupid long arms out and pulling Edie and Stan back towards him before they could get too far. “Just one game. It’ll be fun.”

“Your definition of fun is a lot different than mine,“ Stan said flatly.

“Oh, come on, Stan the Man,” Richie pleaded. “One game.”

“Alright, I’ll play,” Stan said finally. “But only if Eddie plays,” he warned, cutting Richie’s victory in half. 

Eddie shrugged. “Well, I guess that settles it.” He turned around towards the door again.

“Wait a second,” Richie said, pouting. _Fuck_. “One game,” he said again.

_say no say no say no—_

“Eddie sighed. “Fine”

” _ **What**_?“ Stan cried out. 

Richie grinned. "You heard him, Stan the Man. Now sit that pretty little tooshie on the floor and lets play some good ol’ fashioned spin the bottle,” he glanced at Eddie, smirking. “ _Boy-girl_ style.”

They followed him reluctantly over to the circle, where the kids were still playing, a new space created to fit them. Eddie sat in the middle, Richie on his right, and an annoyed looking Stan sitting rather stiffly on his left. "You’re fucking whipped, you know that?” he hissed as he sat down.

“I know,” Eddie whispered back helplessly. He could feel the vodka registering in his system, making his mind a bit blurry. _Good. Because there’s no way I’m playing this game sober._

For the next few minutes, he watched anxiously as each person ahead of him spun the bottle, falling into fits of laughter and cheering whenever two people leaned into the circle to kiss. He didn’t really pay much attention to who was kissing, though.

Until it was Richie’s turn to spin the bottle.

The boy grinned when he got it, cat-like and mischievous. “I hope it lands on you, _Munchkin_ ,” he whispered over the drunken cheering, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. His face burned, and he rolled his eyes to cover his embarrassment.

It was a joke. It always was with Richie. “In your dreams, Trashmouth,” Eddie mumbled under his breath.

Speaking of jokes, the group of wasted college kids fucking _loved_ Richie’s. 

So when he half spun the bottle to make it land on Eddie, they had a fucking field day. And when he did it two more times, they completely lost their shit.

“I’m not kissing you,” Eddie said flatly over the ruckus, hearing the slight slur in his own voice as he said it. “You cheated.  _Three times_.”

Richie pouted, pretty lips jutting out slightly and making Eddie wish he’d just kept his mouth shut and kissed him. “Oh yeah? Well, I’ll have you know, Edster. I’ve practiced the art of spinning the bottle. I can make it go _wherever_ I want. Watch this." He spun it again.

It didn’t land on Eddie

Eddie watched, in utter horror, as the bottle slowed to a stop in front a pretty girl with dyed green hair.

"Funny, she doesn’t look like Eddie,” Stan observed sarcastically.

“All part of the plan,” Richie assured him slyly.

The whole group catcalled as the boy Eddie loved leaned forward and pecked the girl on the lips. It lasted no more the a second, and it was _definitely_ a lot less than what everybody else was doing, but it felt like an eternity in his eyes. It played back in his mind over and over, even as Richie sat back down.  

“Eddie.”

“ _What_?” he snapped, the broken record that was his mind pausing for a second.

Richie was looking at him quizzically. He held out the bottle. “Its your turn, Eds.”

“Oh. Right.” he mumbled, snatching the bottle out of Richie’s grasp and poising it on the floor. 

 _He_ could be wild, too. Who cares if his first kiss was with a stranger, right?“

He spun the bottle

And it fucking landed on Richie

When group broke into cheering again—jesus, did they ever _shut up_?—Richie grinned down mischievously at him. _Oh, fuck._

“N-no way,” Eddie said slowly, worst fear confirmed. _Anybody but him_. 

"Don’t be scared, Eds,” Richie shrugged. "Its just a game.”

_That’s what I’m afraid of._

“Now give Big Daddy a kiss,” Richie went on to say, laughing slightly as the words left his mouth. A rather large, freckled hand came up to cup Eddie’s face, warm and rough against his cheek. It was all too much, years of shared smiles and warm magnified eyes hitting Eddie all at once like a runaway train barreling straight into his chest. Calloused hands and warm breath and hooded eyes and freckled cheeks and Eddie was tipsy and it was all _just too much._   

 “I…I need to go somewhere,” Eddie croaked, forcing himself to move from away from the one thing he’s wanted since he was 10 years old. He scrambled up off of the floor, feeling eyes on his back as he hurried around the corner and up some stairs before locking himself in someone’s room. Eddie pressed his back against the door, sliding down until he was curled up on the floor.  

 _Don’t cry don’t cry don’t fucking cry_ —  

Suddenly, a dam broke somewhere in Eddie’s mind, everything spilling out all at once. Because in the end it didn’t matter if he could be as queer as he wanted in college or in life, or _ever_. Because the stupid boy with the goofy smile and the pretty freckles and the loudest, happiest laugh Eddie had ever heard, the boy who had comforted Eddie, and cared for him, would never feel the same. Richie loved Eddie, Eddie knew that much, but not in the queer way. He cursed himself, an ugly sob breaking from his throat. He’d always known, but now it just felt worse. It was almost like he could _feel_ his heart breaking in his chest. And he _hated_ it, jesus.

He sat there for a few minutes, wallowing in drunken self-pity, until a soft knock sounded at the door. Eddie panicked, backing up against the bed on the far end of the room. "Y-you can’t come in,” he said, voice thick from crying. “I’m…I’m having sex in here!" 

"You know, usually when you’re all by yourself its just called _masturbating_ ," a familiar voice spoke, muffled by the door. 

 _Richie._  

"Can I come in?” His friend asked softly. Eddie could hear his fingers against the frame, _tap tap tapping_ like always. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“What for?” Eddie asked, hating how choked up he sounded.  

It was quiet for a moment, then the door opened with a quiet click. Eddie turned away. 

Richie walked in and sat on the bed behind him, the knee of his ripped jeans resting just next to Eddie’s head.

“What happened back there?” Richie asked.

Eddie scoffed. "N-nothing! I just didn’t wanna kiss, okay? No means no and all that.”

“I don’t know why you care anyways,” he added bitterly. “It’s not like I’m some college girl with big tits or anything.”

Richie sighed. “Eddie.”

“What?”

“Eddie, _look_ at me." 

Suddenly Richie wasn’t sitting on the bed anymore. He was sitting next to Eddie, a hand coming up to gently pull his chin to face him.

"Jesus,” he sighed, face softening as he looked at Eddie, face wet with tears and snot and probably blotchy red. "I’m an idiot.“

"Yeah, you are,” Eddie joked weakly, sniffling. “What made you realize?”

Richie chuckled lightly, hand leaving Eddie’s face to card through his own hair. “'Cause I made you cry and I don’t even know why?” His voice broke when he said it.

Eddie hiccupped.

“Was it…was it because of this kissing thing?” Richie asked suddenly. “Who am I fucking kidding _of course_ it was because of that. God, I’m so stupid. Look, I know you like Stan but—”,

“Wait, pause,” Eddie said, holding a hand up to stop him. "You know that I’m…?“

"Queer?” Richie finished. He smiled, a kind of smile Eddie was sure he’d never seen before. Soft eyes and pink cheeks, understanding and warm. _Richie_. “Eds, gimme some credit here. We’re _best friends_. I know everything about ya.”

_Not everything._

"Then what was with all the talk about being surrounded by college girls? Why did you think that would appeal to me?"

Richie shrugged. "Well...you never told me you liked boys, so I acted like I didn't know. It's called _acting_ Eds," he said, with a flourish of his hand. "But I guess I kinda just fucked that up just now, huh? You'll have to forgive me Baby Boy, I'm kind of...hammered."

Eddie shrugged. "At least now that I know _you_ know, I don't have to...you know..." he laughed, knowing he wasn't making any sense. "I guess I'm kind of hammered too." Richie scoffed, wiping Eddie's face with the sleeve of his sweater and kissing him on his cheek. "I told Bill not to give you anything. I'm gonna murder that asshole," he said softly, no real venom in his voice. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "That's what Stan said, too." 

Richie's face seemed to fall at the mention of their friend. "Right. Stan."

_Stan._

"Wait," he said again, the realization of what Richie had said earlier hitting him. "You think...I like _Stan?"_

“Well, don’t you?”

Eddie snorted, actually fucking _snorted,_ jesus. “Man, you really _are_ an idiot,” he said, choking down a giggle as he said it.

Richie grinned, although he looked a bit confused. “Yes I am. What made ya realize?”

Eddie sighed. He looked up at Richie, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, in his head. He remembered the boys in the living room, a new confidence blossoming in his chest. He could tell Richie anything, he’d known that since he was ten years old.

Here goes nothing.

“I don’t like Stan,” he said slowly. “I like…you?”

Richie’s head whipped towards him, like he’d been slapped. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly. “Always have.”

He took a deep breath.

“And I know this will probably ruin our friendship and everything because you like tits and girls and, and _pussy_ or whatever—”

He was cut off by Richie’s soft mouth on his, warm and tasting of cigarettes and something sweet. Eddie yelped into the kiss, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Relief.

 _He’s kissing me, Richie is kissing me oh my GOD RICHIE I_ —

 _”_ Wait,“ Eddie said, forcing himself to pull away. "What about the girls?”

Richie wiped a tear that had escaped and slid down Eddie’s cheek with the pad of his thumb, a watery smile on his face. “I like girls, guys, whatever. But its you, Eds. Fuck, its _always_ been you _.”_

Richie pulled Eddie closer to him, calloused hands reaching up to cup his face, and their lips met again. Eddie could feel himself melting into him, _God_ , all he wanted was to melt into him. Everything was just…Richie, the smell of detergent and weed and pine and maybe even a little sweat but he didn’t care because he fucking loved everything about it. Eddie sighed into the kiss, and Richie grinned against his lips. He'd never kissed anybody before, his skin felt like it was on fire, burning just for Richie Tozier. 

Richie Tozier had his tongue in his mouth.

_Richie Tozier had his tongue in his mouth._

“Fuck, that’s so much better than kissing your cheek,” the boy laughed once they’d broken apart for air, his hands still cupping Eddie’s face. _Jesus_. If Eddie hadn’t been in love with him before, he was _definitely_ in love with him now, curly hair messy from where Eddie had carded his fingers through it, pupils blown behind crooked glasses and pretty mouth slick with spit. Warmth spread throughout his body, as he stood, caught in the spotlight of Richie’s gaze, pleasant and tingling. He could say it was from the vodka, but he didn’t.

And then Richie went and _ruined_ it. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be kissing a _different_  kind of cheek soon, if you know what I mean,” He wriggled his eyebrows. Eddie rolled his eyes, face flushed.  _God._  “Beep beep, Richie.”

“We should probably go and get Stan,” Eddie said finally, smiling, God he _could not stop smiling_. “You left him playing a kissing game with a bunch of drunk college students. He’s gonna kill you, you know.” He started to get up, only stopped by Richie’s long arms curling around his waist.

“Not yet” he whined. “Come on, Eds, I've been trying to get that pretty little mouth on mine since we were in the fucking sixth grade. Stan the Man can hold his own down there for a while.”

Eddie fixed him with a look.

Richie pouted. _“Pleeaase?”_

Eddie sighed, happily this time. “Fine.”

Because Richie Tozier was the one person Eddie could never say no to.

And, just maybe he didn’t hate it so much after all.

 


End file.
